Losing the Signal: The Spectacular Rise and Fall of BlackBerry by Jacquie McNish, Sean Silcoff Read Free Book Online Page B

hunting weekend. Not the takeover variety, although there would be talk of that. Even though Brock’s company, Sutherland-Schultz, was about to be swallowed whole by a Dutch acquirer, Stork MV, what he had lined up that fine fall day in 1991 was one of the most exclusive pastimes available to wealthy businessmen. They were going pheasant hunting on Nicholson Island, a secret escape in Lake Ontario, two hours east of Toronto. The island’s clipped fields and tangled scrub were the property of a private hunting club. Only members, guests, staff, pointer dogs, and well-fed pheasants were allowed. Bing Crosby visited regularly in the 1960s and a who’s who of Canadian, U.S., and European corporate chiefs made it their business to bag birds, fish, and deals in its fields and streams.
    Balsillie and Brock had lots to discuss on the ride. It had been two years since the Harvard grad had joined Sutherland-Schultz and he was runningmuch of the company. Balsillie’s first assignment had been a corporate makeover. Sutherland-Schultz was spread too thin, with a mixed bag of technology, construction, and manufacturing contracts and assets. Some projects made money; a lot didn’t. By his own admission Brock, an engineer, says his talent for solving technical problems did not come with “the ability to take it to market.” Balsillie spent his first years identifying what assets and contracts to sell and renegotiate. When it came time to sell rights for a new gas compressor process, Balsillie found a buyer with deep pockets. A company owned by legendary Texas oilman T. Boone Pickens paid $2 million for the system. The young recruit was aggressive with suppliers and customers, pushing hard to renegotiate more favorable terms on signed contracts. His leverage? If terms weren’t improved, Sutherland-Schultz would drag its feet with payments and orders.
    “He was a unique great talent,” says Brock. “He opened up the world of marketing opportunities to me—how to negotiate; how to do things.”
    Balsillie shaped Sutherland-Schultz into a more modern, focused business by capitalizing on innovations in construction and manufacturing sectors. He also relied on something else. At Trinity College he’d become intrigued by an ancient military manifesto. Sun Tzu wrote
The Art of War
around 500 BCE to document his successful military strategies in China during a time of marauding, warring rulers. In the 1980s, the slim treatise resonated with business leaders confronting an influx of foreign competition.
    Balsillie revered
The Art of War
as a kind of spiritual guidebook for a small Ontario company facing ruthless global competitors. Forget about Peter Newman’s
The Canadian Establishment
; the working-class kid from Peterborough was now following a different bible. “It is not a friendly world out there,” says Balsillie. Sun Tzu, he says, taught him that “you can’t panic. You have to stay focused. You go into a state. Emotionally you become formidable. You go into a warrior state.”
    Balsillie followed two Sun Tzu tactics religiously: appear strong no matter how weak your hand; and move to uneven terrain if an aggressor is overwhelming. For Balsillie, rugged ground meant keeping competitors, suppliers, and customers off balance. “Bung them up in wool and play obfuscation; promise them this and then do that,” he says. “I am very good at that. I can send very uneven signals. Give them nothing to be certain with. Let them think they are getting what they want, but don’t be overly provocative. I can do that forever.”
    Balsillie’s warrior pose served him well in the short-term deals and negotiations. In the broader, more nuanced world of customer relations and employee management, however, he soon became a divisive figure. Many of Sutherland-Schultz’s seven hundred employees bristled at Balsillie’s impatience. Under Brock’s leadership, no one had titles and employees pitched in to solve problems. In return Brock sent